Thursday, 4 July 2013

...and then Z woke up...

You know how it is that hair doesn't seem to grow steadily? One day it's neat or smooth, whichever area we're talking about, and then next it's unbearably shaggy? I'm thinking hair on the head or bearded chin or, in this case, eyebrows. Yesterday - well, they're not exactly groomed but at least they arch more or less where I want them to - they were okay in the morning, but when I went to bed, they suddenly seemed to have bristled.

Except they haven't. I've looked in the mirror this morning and they're fine. That means I must have been dreaming again - and the extra clue is that I don't look in the mirror before going to bed. At least it wasn't a nightmare this time, but I've no idea what's going on in my subconscious mind. The night before, there was something that I think really happened, but now I'm doubting, maybe I dreamed that too - I'm cracking up, darlings, it's the heat - at night, at least, until today. I've changed to the summer duvet at last.

At least it's not as a result of being too busy, because I'm winding down for the summer. Things are getting ticked off lists, events happen and not much is going in the diary for the next few weeks - well, the week after next is busy but even that is largely social, domestic and pleasure. I still tend to keep to school summer holidays and aim to relax in August - and am very fortunate to be able to do that, of course.

And then I wrote a whole lot about schools but I've deleted it, you'll be glad to find. I'm here to waffle cheerfully, it's the Z way.

What I'll tell you instead is that I'm jolly glad you didn't eat all the cake at the weekend. Thanks to Madeleine and Liz leaving the leftovers behind, we've been rather well fed at teatime this week. There's not much left of either of them now. Nor of anything else, except the ham. That's still going strong, but I'll slice it up later and freeze it for later, we can't eat it all yet.

10 comments:

Hey Z! The subconscious mind is a tricky thing. My memory of the weekend is, as you say, of pleasantly-arch eyebrows; I think it's too short a time for you to go all Mrs. Hyde on us. And dammit, I should have taken a hammy doggy bag! Indigo x

I remember a dream where my whiskers were coming out in clumps, and when I decided to shave I'd forgotten how. It was something of a relief, when checking them in the mirror the following morning, to find they were intact.

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Oh, what's the problem? This is hardly Great Literature. I'd appreciate anything taken from here being acknowledged, and I might change my mind if I'm suddenly proclaimed as the Literary Queen of the Blogosphere - but I probably wouldn't. Do what you like, just as long as it doesn't extend to defamation of anyone, even me.

Actually, you want to pass off what I say as your own, I might even be flattered. Let's face it, who cares anyway?